I’m so worked
up right now, I
almost can’t see straight. I had fully intended to fuck Miss Double D, as Quinn
so aptly named her, but once the security guard interrupted us and Quinn
bolted, having sex with Crystal lost its appeal. All I could think about was
Quinn’s gaze on me, watching me touch another woman, watching me make her come.
She liked watching. I could tell how turned on she was by the
way her chest was rising and falling so rapidly with every breath, the way she
couldn’t tear her eyes away from me, the sheen of sweat on her upper lip and
neck.

My cock throbs in
my pants just thinking about it.

Quinn insists on
driving as I had a few shots tonight and we decide to go to her place because
it’s closer. Quinn lives in a condo that’s quite nice, actually. Once we’re in
her car, I adjust my dick so my pants aren’t strangling it.

“Congratulations
on your new account, hotshot. I don’t know if I told you earlier,” she says.

“Thank you. You
told me earlier, but you can tell me again. I like it when you praise me.”

“I’m not sure
there’s any room in this car, what with the size of your—”

“Cock?” I
interject.

“I was going to
say ego.”

“My cock is
pretty big, too, you have to admit.” I look over at her, flashing a naughty
grin.

“I do like your
cock, you know that. Are you fishing for compliments?”

I chuckle. I love
that she admits to liking my cock. Most women shy away from dirty talk, but not
Quinn. She’s just as blunt as I am and isn’t afraid to use words like cock or
cunt.

“Isn’t there any
way you can go any faster? I’m dying over here.” I’m two seconds away from
pulling my dick out and jacking off while she drives.

“Calm your tits.
We’re almost there.” She rolls her eyes but does push down on the gas pedal a
bit harder.

“Have you
ever…been with a woman?” The way she was watching us made me think she’d like
to join in. I could see Quinn experimenting with other women.

“No, I like dick,
if you haven’t noticed.” She smiles and glances over at me. “But I can
appreciate that boobs are sexy.”

“What about the
way she was able to lick her own nipples, wasn’t that hot?” I almost came in my
pants when I saw that she could do it. That’s going in the spank bank, for
sure.

“That’s some
party trick.”

“Would you lick
your own nipples if you could?” I ask her. Quinn’s boobs are amazing, large and
perky, though not quite as big as Crystal’s.

“Hell yeah I
would. That’s like asking if you would suck your own dick if you could. Don’t
even tell me you’ve never tried to; I won’t believe you.”

I chuckle. “When
I was 14, I tried as hard as I could, but I’m not that flexible.”

“There’s a sight
I would have liked to see.” She laughs.

“It wasn’t even
remotely sexy. I lived in fear that someone would walk in on me and catch an
eyeful of me in different contorted positions.” I laugh at the memory. “It
would seem as though you are a closet voyeur. How did I not know this about you
until tonight?”

She chews on her
bottom lip. “I didn’t know it myself. I mean, I like watching porn, but I’ve
never come across an opportunity to watch real-life action.”

I file that
information away for later and almost weep with relief when we pull into her
driveway. We turn to look at each other once the car is parked in her garage,
and her eyes roam over my face, stopping on my lips. She leans forward, about
to kiss me.

“Is there
anything you need to do before I fuck you?” Once I start, I won’t be able to
stop until I’m balls deep inside of her.

“No.”

I promptly get
out of the car and walk around the front to open her door. As soon as she’s
standing, I’m on her, pulling her face toward mine and taking her mouth in a
hot, wet kiss. Her lips are perfect, plump, and soft, and this kiss has the
perfect ratio of lips, teeth, and tongue. Her tongue dances with mine and she’s
as ravenous as I am, licking and nipping at me. Her hands are busy too,
untucking my shirt and reaching for my belt buckle. Fuck. I love
that she’s desperate for my dick, but I reach down and bat her hands away. We
need to take this inside. I reach down to palm her ass and pick her up. Her
legs wrap around my waist as I carry her to the door, stopping by the security
alarm so she can disarm it.

Once the door is
open, I stride inside and sit on the couch with Quinn straddling me. She grinds
against my erection as I pull her shirt up and off. She reaches for my shirt
next, and I reach over my head to tug it off. She sits back on my lap and
stares down at my torso, lust and appreciation shining in her eyes. I also take
a moment to appreciate my view of her. She wears a red, silky bra, but it seems
like some of the material is missing because only the bottom half of her boobs
are covered. The top half is exposed and I can see the pink skin of her areolas
just hinting at where her nipples are. I trail my fingers across the edge of
the bra, dragging the material down a bit to reveal the rest of her nipples.
They’re tight little nubs and I pinch them, hard. She gasps and arches her
back, bringing her chest closer to my face.

“I really like
this bra, Red. It seems like you chose the color just for me.”

“I chose it
for me. I like the way it makes me feel,” she corrects me, her
voice low and throaty.

“How does it make
you feel?”

“Sexy.”

“You don’t need a
bra for that. You’re sexy all on your own. Stand up, take your pants off. I
want to see the rest of you.”

She stands and
starts to unbutton her pants. “If I’m getting naked, then so are you. Come on,
let me see that gorgeous cock of yours.”

I comply with her
request, grabbing a condom out of my wallet before stripping off my jeans,
underwear, socks, and shoes. Quinn makes quick work of her pants and heels then
goes to take off her panties but I stop her.

“Wait, I want
to take those off.” I sit back down on the couch and pull her to stand in front
of me. The underwear is also silky red, and I love the contrast against her
pale skin. Quinn is curvy, her hips flaring out from her waist. I smooth my
hands down them before reaching back to squeeze her ass. It bounces when I let
go and I can’t wait to see it bounce on my cock.

“How wet did you
get watching me earlier?” I know she was aroused, but I don’t know how much.

“Soaking wet,”
she tells me.

“I want to see.”
I reach for the fabric that covers her pussy and run my fingers back and forth,
testing the fabric for wetness. Sure enough, it’s soaked. “Fuck, Red. I need to
taste you.”

“So taste me.”

I slide her
panties down her legs and help her step out of them. I lean forward and nuzzle
my nose right in between her legs, inhaling her musky scent, then lick her
slit, grabbing her ass and pulling her forward, closer to my mouth. She holds
on to my shoulders to steady herself as my tongue laps at her cunt, but I can’t
quite get the right angle while she’s standing up.

I stand, and she
whimpers. “Why did you stop?”

I look around her
living room and see the ottoman in front of the couch is plush and a decent
size. “Lie back on this, I need to bury my face in your pussy.”

She shivers at my
words and reclines on the ottoman, legs spread wide and leaning up on her
elbows so she can watch me. Her red hair is wild, her face is flushed, and her
tits are heaving out of her bra as she pants in anticipation.

I kneel in front
of her and hold her gaze as I lick her slowly, from opening to clit.

“Fuck, that feels
good. Don’t stop.”

My licks are slow
and steady, working her up, but not giving her enough friction to come. She
keeps her gaze on me and I watch as she becomes more and more desperate.

“Charlie.”

“Hmm?” I ask,
like I have all the time in the world.

Quinn likes to be
bossy too, and I like to make her beg. She hates begging, which makes me like
it even more. She tips her hips up, chasing my tongue, but I move it to lick
her folds instead.

“Charlie!” she
complains.

“Did I ever tell
you how much I love eating your pussy?” I ask her conversationally in between
licks. I could eat her out for hours. Her red curls are neatly trimmed, framing
her clit and pussy lips. I spread her wide open with my fingers and lick into
her opening, pushing my tongue as deep as I can get it, then licking the walls
as I come out. Her taste is addictive. Not all women taste the same—some are
bitter, some more musky, some sour. Quinn’s pussy tastes divine, the right
combination of musky, salty, and sweet. I lap up her juices, avoiding her clit,
trying to drive her crazy enough to beg me.

“Fuck! Charlie, I
need you. Is that what you want to hear?”

Bingo. “What do you need? More of my
tongue?” I focus on her clit and she moans loudly.

She doesn’t
answer me, so I back away.

“Charlie! Please,
I need you to fuck me, okay? Please fuck me.” She glares at me, pissed that she
gave in and begged me, but so turned on.

I chuckle and
reach for the condom. “My pleasure. Why didn’t you just say so?”

My body is so desperate to come but his tongue
wasn’t enough; I need his cock, and that fucking bastard always likes to make
me beg.

He rolls the
condom on and tugs on his gorgeous cock a couple of times before lining himself
up with my pussy. He pulls me forward slightly, making my ass hang just a bit
off the edge of the ottoman, and rubs the head of his dick up and down my
folds, coating himself with my wetness. I feel his piercing, a stark contrast
to the way a cock feels. The metal of the piercing is unforgiving while his
penis is hard but soft at the same time. The combination makes my eyes roll
back into my head and my clit throbs as I wait for him to push into me. He
doesn’t though, not right away. He picks up my legs and drapes them up over his
shoulders.

“Charlie!” I
bark. “Now. Fuck me now.”

At my tortured
command, he slams into me. I’m so wet, he gains entry easily, but his girth
stretches me open, making me gasp at the sudden feeling of fullness.

“Fuck. This is
going to be fast.”

Thank God.

He leans forward,
seeking purchase on the edges of the ottoman to hold on. I grab on to his
forearms and he starts to thrust into me.

“Yessss.” I love
his unrelenting rhythm. His cock is big, and I feel the piercing inside,
creating more friction with each movement in and out of me. It reaches all the
right places and I’m on the verge of coming.

“I need you to
come, Red. Are you close?”

“God, yes.”

He leans down and
latches on to one nipple, pulling it and biting it. Then he tends to the other
nipple, and the extra stimulation pushes me over the edge. Pleasure steals my
breath and my vision.

“Fuck!” I shout,
wrapping my legs around his waist so I can keep him inside me. My pussy clamps
around his dick while I come and he chuckles sexily.

“I love feeling
you milk my cock. Was that good?”

“Mmmmm,” I tell
him, too far gone for words right now.

He kisses me and
stays still as I come down from my orgasm. Then he starts moving again and I
realize his cock is still rock hard. “You didn’t come yet?”

“Not yet. Can you
flip over? I need to see your ass.”

“I’m not sure I
can move,” I groan. My body is always a bit paralyzed after an orgasm.

“I’ve got you.”
He pulls out of me, helps me sit up, then I turn and face plant into the
ottoman. He positions me so I’m kneeling on the carpet, folded over the ottoman
for support, ass sticking out at him. He palms my ass and slaps one cheek, the
unexpected sting causing me to gasp.

“Don’t fall
asleep on me.”

“Well then, give
me something to stay awake for,” I retort.

He spreads my ass
cheeks apart, so wide I’m completely exposed to his view. I can’t see what he’s
doing, but it seems like he’s just looking at me.

“You see
something you like?” I ask him, unnerved at his silence and stillness.

“I wish I could
take a picture of you right now, all pliant and satisfied, your pussy wet and
pink from my cock fucking you,” he replies, his voice so husky. “I’d title
it Satisfaction.”

“I bet you have a
collection of naughty pictures, don’t you?” He is a photographer, after all.

He slides his
cock up and down my crack, teasing me. Then he squeezes my ass cheeks together,
sandwiching his dick in between them, and pumps up and down. The condom catches
on my skin, not slick enough to glide smoothly, so he spits. The sound is so
crass, and I feel the plop as his saliva lands on my skin, but
when he starts moving again, the extra spit allows him to slide easily. Fuck,
his cock is so big. It makes me squirm every time it passes over my asshole,
and that piercing—it’s so unyielding.

“You’d think I’d
have naughty pictures, but I don’t. I’m not much for remembering past hookups,
but fuck, I want to keep this image for my viewing pleasure.”

“Maybe I’ll send
you a picture sometime.” I’ve never taken nude photos before, too afraid they
would end up online somewhere, but the thought of Charlie jerking off to images
of me gets me hot.

“I’d like that.”
He pulls back, his cockhead trailing down my crack to rub my clit. My nerve
endings are still so sensitive from my orgasm that his touch is almost too
much.

“Fuck, Charlie,”
I hiss, squirming away from his attention.

Surprisingly, he
heeds my complaint and finally slides into me. It’s a slow slide, inch by inch,
until his pelvis is flush with my ass, then he stills. Pleasure zings through
me at the way he stretches me and my recently sated body wakes up, hungry for
more. I need friction, but he isn’t moving. I huff in frustration.

“I want you to
bounce that luscious ass on my cock,” he says in explanation.

That I can do. I
lift my upper body off the ottoman and brace myself. Holding on to the sides, I
rock forward until I feel he’s almost completely out then I back up quickly,
loving the way he fills me up.

Nothing is sexier
than the sounds this man makes during sex. The deep rumbles, the muttered
curses, the bossy commands, even the lewd remarks about my body are all so damn
hot.

Charlie Nelson is
one sexy beast.

Soon enough, he
takes control and reaches around to rub my clit. He can read my body so well,
and his fingers plucking my clit while he fucks me triggers an orgasm so
intense, I practically pass out. I scream my release and try to grab hold of
something to keep me tethered to Earth. He pitches forward on one final thrust
and shouts hoarsely along with me. His arms come around me, stilling my
flailing movements and holding me close as his dick pulses inside me.

“Fucking hell,
that was amazing.” He pants into my neck.

“Mmmm,” I agree.

“You paralyzed?”
He knows this about me—orgasms always steal my coordination and leave me in a
heap of spasms and heavy limbs.

“Mmmmhmm.”

“Stay here, I’ll
take care of you.” Those words sound so foreign coming out of Charlie’s mouth.
I know he means he’ll take care of my body. Not of me. I don’t want
anyone to take care of me.

I just want
orgasms.

And Charlie is
good at giving me orgasms.

I’ll never depend
on any man to take care of me ever again.

Charlie returns
moments later with a warm cloth and wipes between my legs gently. Then he lifts
me easily into his arms and carries me to my bed.

“Is it okay if I
crash here? I can be out of your hair first thing in the morning,” he promises.

I usually hate
having men stay the night. If it were anyone else, I’d make them leave
immediately. In fact, if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have brought them to
my house at all, but Charlie is in this strange category. He isn’t some random
hookup; he’s someone I see all the time in my circle of friends. I guess he’s
my friend with an amazing cock who I like to have sex with on occasion, so I
trust him more than a random stranger.

That’s the only
reason I tug him down into bed with me, snuggle into his side, and promptly
fall asleep with the warmth of his arm wrapped around my waist.

Author Bio

Isabel Love is a hopeless romantic. She loves reading about two people falling in love, overcoming whatever obstacles they may face, and finding their happily ever after. A husband, two kids, and a full-time job keep her busy by day, but by night, she can be found with her Kindle in hand, reading “just one more chapter”.

Worse than bad. Hotter than hot. These are the bad boys
of the Harrison Street Crew, and they answer to no one. They take what they
want. And what they want is you.Ryan Gallagher is the one who does the dirty work. The brute
force in the Harrison Street Crew, he lives to have the club all for his own
one day. But the one thing he can’t have is Megan Mahoney—the one woman he’s
loved since she was a teenager who needed saving.

Megan never forgot the all-consuming passion she felt for
Ryan, her larger-than-life, wild teenage love. But coming from a hard, shocking
past has left her broken and scared—and untrusting of the Harrison Street Crew.
Ten years later, she’s back in Ryan’s world to claim a promise he made to her
years ago. And even though she knows she shouldn’t fall for him, Ryan still has
an explosive, sensual pull on her that she can’t ignore.

Ryan’s powerful love for Megan is the only thing that could
ever soothe the tempestuous beast that roars in his soul. And when she comes
back to him to aid her in a dangerous quest—a deadly revenge plot he swore he
would be a part of years ago—Ryan can’t say no. He lives to protect this woman.
He will die loving this woman. And as the stakes get higher, the love that they
have kept hidden all these years explodes and goes further and deeper than
either of them expected. But with a dark threat from Megan’s past thrust
headlong into their lives, can their love win out?

When Katana Collins was younger and stole her mother’s
Harlequins to read beneath the covers with a flashlight, she wanted to read
about the tough as nails heroine. The perfectly imperfect girl with quirks and
attitude and sass. And the anti-heroes who were anything but “Prince Charming.”
Forget the knight on a white horse… she wanted the bad boy on a motorcycle.

So, now, she writes those romance novels she craved to see
on the shelves all those years ago—the sassy heroines. The badass heroes. She
penned her first romance novel back in 2012 and now, a few years later, she is
an international author with 15 published books, in a wide range of
contemporary romance genres–(Paranormal, New Adult, Small town, Erotic
Suspense… you name it!).

She lives in Portland, Maine, with an ever-growing brood of
rescue animals: a kind of mean cat, a very mellow chihuahua, and a very not
mellow lab puppy… oh yeah, there’s a husband somewhere in that mix, too. She
can usually be found hunched over her laptop in a cafe, guzzling gallons of
coffee, and wearing fabulous (albeit sometimes impractical) shoes.

She loves connecting with book lovers like herself, and
fellow sassy storytellers, so feel free to drop her an email, visit her on her
website: www.katanacollins.com Or connect on Instagram/Twitter (@katanacollins) or Facebook
(www.facebook.com/katanacollins)!

About the Book:

New York Times bestselling author, Sawyer Bennett, is happy to introduce a new Wicked Horse club in Las Vegas and you’re cordially invited to attend the grand opening…

As the owner of The Wicked Horse, an elite sex club located along the Vegas Strip, Jerico Jameson never spends the night alone. Gorgeous, ripped, and totally alpha, Jerico doesn’t grant favors and will rarely give you the time of day—unless he wants you in his bed. So when the sister of his sworn enemy shows up asking for help, saying no should be easy. But when Jerico takes one look at her and sees an opportunity to help this beautiful woman while exacting revenge on her brother, he’s not about to pass that up.

Beaten and bruised, Trista Barnes is running out of options, and Jerico is her last chance to get out of the mess she’s in. She doesn’t know why Jerico despises her brother so much, but as long as he can help her, she doesn’t care. Jerico offers her safety while opening her up to a sinful world she never knew existed.

As she succumbs to Jerico’s erotic charm, Trista lets herself fall into the wicked world of guilt free pleasure with no regrets. Under his strong alpha hand, she blooms, and so does Jerico’s possessiveness. But what happens when Trista finds out she was a pawn in Jerico’s game all along, and that the price for his favor was steeper than she ever imagined – her heart.

My Review:

4 Stars!

Sawyer Bennett spins off her Wicked Horse series to a new setting – Vegas! A new cast of characters and a new setting gives us a fresh take, but don’t fret, Bennett still gives us the same steamy debauchery we’ve come to love with this series!

Jericho Jameson (that rolls right off the tongue) owns the Wicked Horse Vegas. He is former Special Ops, loves sex and has alpha tendencies. However, under the surface lies a man who hurts and has felt the sting of betrayal. Trista is the sister of Jericho’s former military buddy, Jayce–a man he hates. She is strong and caring, but she is in a vulnerable and desperate position when she comes to Jericho seeking help, at her brother’s suggestion. The chemistry between these two is explosive right off the bat. They are sort of opposites attract, but Jericho helps awaken her sexually adventurous side and she helps open his heart.

The plot is typical of an erotic romance with a bit of suspense thrown in. Why do Jericho and Jayce hate each other? Why would Jayce send his sister to his sworn enemy? I love that Bennet can take the typical and make it unique. The sex is pretty hot and I realized something when reading this that I somehow didn’t figure out before (which is pretty sad since I have read everything Bennett has written)–Sawyer Bennett has an amazing ability to write kinky in the most respectful of ways. It is part of the reason why I enjoy reading her books.

I think you’re going to love this new series. It starts off with a bang of a romance, sweeps you away into a new world and ends with a sweet epilogue.

Where to Buy:

Excerpt:

She pops her head in first and gives me a tentative smile. “You busy?”

“Not at all,” I tell her as I wave her in.

She disappears for a moment, and then opens the door wider. I see she’s carrying a large, plastic container that’s dome shaped and has a handle on top. My eyes only flick to it briefly before coming back to her. She’s much better to look at.

Shutting the door behind her, she walks up to my desk with a goofy grin on her face and sets the plastic container in front of me. I look down at it, and then up to her. “What’s that?”

“Something I made for you this morning,” she says, unlocking the tabs at the bottom. She lifts the dome top off, and I’m staring at a cake in front of me.

Slowly, I look back up to her. “You made me a cake?”

“Not just any cake,” she says while wagging a finger at me. “A four-layer, homemade red velvet cake with whipped mascarpone icing.”

“Jesus,” I mutter as I look at the cake, wondering what this weird squeezing sensation is in my chest. When I look back up to her, I have to ask her again, “You made that just for me?”

“Just for you,” she says with satisfaction all over her face. “You said it was your favorite, and I had some time this morning after pancakes.”

I push out of my chair and wave a hand at the cake. “You just happened to have all these ingredients, huh? You routinely use something as odd as mascarpone?”

Her grin turns mischievous as she shrugs. “Well, I may have had to go to the grocery store for a few things.”

Jesus fuck. I can’t believe she did that for me.

My mind races over the years, and I can’t remember anyone doing something so randomly nice for me. So spontaneous and with the sole intention of doing it to please me.

Picking up the cake, I round the desk and head for the side door that connects to my kitchen. “Let’s take this next door.”

I don’t miss the disgruntled expression on Trista’s face as she clearly expected me to act differently. I’m sure she was thinking I’d be a bit more effusive in my praise, and I intend to be.

Just… in my apartment.

She follows me through the door as I balance the cake on my hand. I immediately lay it down on my kitchen counter and spin around just as she’s walking through the door, taking her face in my hands and walking right into her. My mouth hits hers. She gives a huff of surprise as I turn slightly and back her into the refrigerator. Angling my head, I kiss her deeply. It’s possible because she angles hers the other way, opening her mouth to give me entrance.

Yes, it’s a deep kiss, but it’s not sexual. It’s a show of unbridled happiness that makes me feel like a kid, or perhaps it’s gratitude that Trista perhaps thinks this is something other than “just sex”.

When I pull away, Trista’s cheeks are pink and she’s slightly panting. She whispers breathlessly to me, “I should make you cake more often.”

The grin that breaks wide is my answer, followed by another swift kiss. Then I’m turning away from her and grabbing a fork out of my drawer. Without any pomp, and certainly no circumstance to wait for a plate, I punch my fork down into the top of the cake and pull a huge chunk out.

“Oh, my God.” Trista giggles as she comes to stand beside me at the counter. I angle toward her as I bring the fork to my lips, open my mouth wide, and shove the cake in. Cheeks bulging and the taste of rich cake and lightly sweet, tangy frosting coating my tongue, I groan in satisfaction. Our eyes stay locked as I chew and chew and chew, and finally swallow the heaven in my mouth. Trista’s eyes are sparkling with humor and a bit of pride.

She beams a brilliant smile as she sets the cake carrier on the counter and turns toward the door that leads back into my office. “You’re welcome. Now… I’ve got to get going.”

“Wait,” I say as I snag her arm and turn her back to me. “You just got here.”

“And my work is done,” she says impishly, going to her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. “I’m meeting Mom and Corinne for lunch, and I’ve got to get going.”

Well, there goes all thought of spending my afternoon with Trista in bed rather than golfing.

But I’d never begrudge her time with Jolene and Corinne. Their unity right now is extremely important. I do pull her into me and wrap my arms around her waist after throwing the fork into the sink. Trista’s hands come to my chest as she looks up at me curiously.

“Take the night off,” I tell her softly and I have to admit, the way her eyes go warm makes me feel fucking really good. “Make it an entire day and night thing with Corinne, okay?”

“Really?” she asks with sweetest type of surprise in her eyes.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I tighten my arms around her. “I’ll keep myself occupied with the cake tonight.”

Her lips quirking, she gets a playful look in her eyes. “We could… um… FaceTime each other later.”

My eyebrows rise with interest, but I play a little stupid. “FaceTime?”

“Naked. FaceTime.” She annunciates each word slowly, and my dick perks up at this suggestion.

And for a man who has done about every dirty thing imaginable, it hits me hard that this is something new. Something I’ve never done with another woman and now, I’m glad she’s not coming so I can have something new and unique just with Trista.

“What time might you be calling me?” I ask in a husky voice.

“Be ready around eleven,” she says, pressing into me. “Clothing is optional.”

“Wrong,” I tell her with a shake of my head. “Naked is mandatory.”

About the Author:

Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, Off Sides, in January 2013, Sawyer Bennett has released more than 30 books and has been featured on both the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists on multiple occasions.

A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone.

Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great work-out, cake, or a combination of the two.

My name is Brennan Delavan and I’m 21 years old. I grew up in a home of the privileged, but as the daughter of the help. When I became of age, I worked along side my mother to earn my keep. My cynicism for the world in which I live, is with merit. I’ve experienced first hand how the circle of wealth monopolizes opportunities that are just beyond reach for everyone else. We’re merely hamsters in a turning wheel with an illusion of freedom and equality. I no longer dream of being more. I have accepted what is. My mother is now dead. My father died before I was born. I don’t need to exist outside the walls of my reality. I AM THE HELP!

My name is Silas Lair and I’m a sex extraordinaire! Sex is my business and my gift. Every facet of sex that you can conceive, is a realm of my empire. My yacht, The Playboy’s Lair, is just one of my many entities and is currently my primary domain. I’m very protective of my domain and who I let infiltrate my space. When I’m asked to hire a new housekeeper as a favor to my most trusted house manager, I oblige. The moment Brennan crosses the threshold of my yacht, my guard erects ten fold. Her jaded attitude and introvert mannerisms can only keep her safe from me for so long. She is an enigma, one that I have every intention of getting beneath me. She walked right into my world of sex – my lair! There is no room for innocence here. I will fuck my curiosity of her out of my system and carry on with my legacy!

Fuck or be fucked. The only two options I live by. I choose the former.**This book is part one in a two-part book for Silas**

S.R. Watson is a Texas native, who currently resides in Wisconsin. She grew up reading the Sweet Valley series (Twins, High, & University) among others. Although she wrote countless stories during high school, she never published any of them. She continued her education and became a registered nurse. After reading the Twilight series and 50 Shades Trilogy, she decided to pursue her passion for writing once again.

S.R. Watson published the first book in 2014. She is the bestselling author of the Forbidden Trilogy, The Object of His Desire, and the co-authored S.I.N. Trilogy with Shawn Dawson.

When S.R. Watson is not writing or working as a CVOR nurse, she loves to read and binge watch her favorite shows (Scandal, How to Get Away With Murder, Elementary, etc.)

New York Times bestselling author, Sawyer Bennett, is happy to introduce a new Wicked Horse club in Las Vegas and you’re cordially invited to attend the grand opening…

As the owner of The Wicked Horse, an elite sex club located along the Vegas Strip, Jerico Jameson never spends the night alone. Gorgeous, ripped, and totally alpha, Jerico doesn’t grant favors and will rarely give you the time of day—unless he wants you in his bed. So when the sister of his sworn enemy shows up asking for help, saying no should be easy. But when Jerico takes one look at her and sees an opportunity to help this beautiful woman while exacting revenge on her brother, he’s not about to pass that up.

Beaten and bruised, Trista Barnes is running out of options, and Jerico is her last chance to get out of the mess she’s in. She doesn’t know why Jerico despises her brother so much, but as long as he can help her, she doesn’t care. Jerico offers her safety while opening her up to a sinful world she never knew existed.

As she succumbs to Jerico’s erotic charm, Trista lets herself fall into the wicked world of guilt free pleasure with no regrets. Under his strong alpha hand, she blooms, and so does Jerico’s possessiveness. But what happens when Trista finds out she was a pawn in Jerico’s game all along, and that the price for his favor was steeper than she ever imagined – her heart.

But from the comfort of my office, I can pull up the security feeds on my monitor and take note of the subtle changes in Trista as she works the condiment tray. Truth be told, I don’t need her working that job and have a much greater need for her to go back to cleaning, but fuck if she doesn’t look a hell of a lot sexier in a thong than a turtleneck and pants.

Part of my training in the military was gathering intelligence, so I can pick up on the slightest of details that could tell me a very important story, and there were a lot of changes I noticed over the last three days with Trista as she settled into her job routine.

The most important and pleasing thing was that Trista’s stopped hiding her sexual curiosity. When she first started working here, she looked around a room in a vague way, not taking in too many details. I think she was afraid to watch.

Afraid of what it would do to her body.

But that has definitely changed.

Now, Trista watches what the patrons are doing. Sometimes, she stares for long moments and much to my delight, the kinkier the acts, the longer she stares. My trained eyes take in her chest rising and falling to keep up with what I’m sure was a racing pulse. She’d adjust the straps covering her breasts in a very minute way either because the pressure on her nipples was too much, or because she wanted to create some friction.

Naughty, naughty girl.

My favorite though was when she would cross one long leg over the other and squeeze her thighs together as she watched, and I had no doubt her clit was probably pulsing with desire.

Trista was getting braver too. She never once took any man up on an offer to join, and there had been some I’d seen. I had told her she could if business was slow, but I also made a spectacle in front of Willis that she was off limits. Perhaps Trista thinks she’s off limits to everyone, and it’s fine by me if she wants to think that.

Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, Off Sides, in January 2013, Sawyer Bennett has released more than 30 books and has been featured on both the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists on multiple occasions.

A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone.

Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others, and that a bad day can be cured with a great work-out, cake, or a combination of the two.

Lost in a past love, he never guessed his future lingered in not one kiss, but two.

Dylan McCoy had a goal: win-over love, do right by his son and take back control. He didn’t anticipate Chantal’s allure or expect Sean’s seduction. Two unexpected encounters. Two unpredictable people. Neither easy to forget. Both impossible to resist.

When pleasure for two turns to passion for three, Dylan is forced to examine his choices. Can he hold on to the past, a love that’s already gone, and a plan that’s already failed? Or should he change his goal, play a new game, and let two new lovers show him that even when he lets go, he’s still the one in charge?

This book contains graphic language and scenes that are sexually explicit. This includes M/M and M/M/F scenes. Recommended for readers 18+

Kim Bailey is a Canadian author. She’s a born procrastinator
and sarcasm junkie. She gets her motivation from coffee, the fact that her
teenage children haven’t disowned her, and the smile on her husband’s face when
she tells him “maybe”.When she was young and naïve, Kim dreamed of being a
documentary filmmaker and script writer. But when real life happened she went
to a job that actually paid her. Now she’s a customer support specialist by day
and romance writer by night.

Writing is something she’s always done – she has about 20
million half-started story ideas. She may also be a slight exaggerator.Kim promised herself to set her fears aside and make the
dream real. She’s working on that, one day at a time.

Lily has
been born into wealth, and with that comes a certain responsibility. She has
been promised to Hail, who has just taken over Royal Industries along with his
brothers and cousins. The Royal family screams power and money and they’ll
destroy anyone who stands in their way of acquiring more.

Hail is
more forceful and unyielding than the preppy son of a greedy bastard Lily took
him for. Everything about him is dominant. When his eyes lock with hers sparks
fly instantly. Lily belongs to Hail and there’s nothing she can do but honor
her grandfather’s promise.

Just one
look at Lily and Hail is determined to own her in every way. He doesn’t want
her obedience just because she’s honoring a promise. He wants her obedience
because she craves to please him.The force of nature might just be too much for the delicate Lily.

Storm, the eldest
son of a heartless businessman is forced to choose a bride. His father wants
grandchildren to secure the future of Royal Industries, and he wants them
now.

Forced to choose
from a specific list of women that’s been promised to the Royal family, Storm
holds a masked ball and invites the six women.

Poppy has lived a
sheltered life. She has been homeschooled by her overprotective mother.
Attending the masked ball is an exciting experience for her until she lands in
the arms of Storm Royal. Electricity crackles around them.

Poppy’s delicate new love is shattered when she finds out why Storm really
wants to marry her. She’s only a means to an end, another piece of property.

Can Storm win
Poppy’s trust while trying to keep his fiery desire for her under control?

He’s silent—but his touch speaks louder than words.At first sight, Savannah is drawn to the harsh appeal of a man who refuses to talk to her. Keenan’s hard stare is arrogant and unapologetic. The quirk of his sensuous lips is cocky and in control.

She’d been warned, told that his silence hides a myriad of lies capable of affecting her career and relationships with loved ones. Only she can’t help herself. Testing Keenan’s defenses is an addiction she can’t deny.

Falling in lust is easy. Learning his secrets comes with a price. The cost? Her broken heart.

“Inarticulate combines masterful storytelling with raw
passion and gut-wrenching emotion. Savannah and Keenan’s story will have you
hooked from page one. Bravo Eden Summers, this story is an absolute
winner!” USA Today Bestselling
Author, Stefanie London

“I was floored by this book and was anxious to find out
what would happen next! It’s that intense!” The Book Obsessed Momma

“Inarticulate is an amazing, jaw dropping and truly
unique story. It’s full of heart-stopping roller coasters of emotion and supersedes
all of the author’s other work by far.” Megan – Riverina Romantics

“The blurb for Inarticulate intrigued me, and once I
started reading it, through to when I reached the end, I was in love with
Keenan and Savannah (Savvy).” Give
Me Books

“The witty banter was plentiful. The suspense was
exciting. And as always, the passion and chemistry between the main characters
was intoxicating.” Rosa, iScream
Books

Author Bio

Eden Summers is a bestselling author of contemporary romance with a side of sizzle and sarcasm.She lives in Australia with a young family who are well aware she’s circling the drain of insanity. Eden can’t resist alpha dominance, dark features and sarcasm in her fictional heroes and loves a strong heroine who knows when to bite her tongue but also serves retribution with a feminine smile on her face.

24 moments where life will mark her as mine.I’ve loved Anahi Pratt since she moved in next door at the age of twelve. With her knobby knees and a mouthful of braces, she made my heart thump harshly inside my prepubescent chest. One look into the greenest eyes I’d ever seen, and I was hooked for life. Owned.

However, I was tongue-tied and confused and did the only thing I could: offer my friendship.

Over the years, those feelings never changed. Instead, they grew—morphed into something deep and profound. But never once did she see me as more than a friend. Never did she see the man that worshipped the ground she walked on. The man that needed to be what she wanted. Needed.

I stayed on the sidelines until that day:

A crash.

Her life on the line and my world came to a screeching halt.

Life is short and changes in the blink of an eye, a lesson I suddenly understood. There wasn’t a second to wait. No more hiding behind the guise of friendship.

“How can you say that with this hideous scar on my thigh?” Fuck, she could be as stubborn as a mule.

“That scar…” I hissed out, my eyes searching the floor around her feet for the broken glass I’d heard fall through the door. It was nothing big. A small figurine broken in two pieces. Taking the remaining steps between us, I paused in front of her. “This is proof that what could have been tragic…wasn’t.” Taking her face in my hands, I tipped it up and lowered my forehead to hers. “It means that you are okay and here with me. That a drunken asshole crying over his divorce didn’t take the most important thing in my life away.”

“Stop.” Prying my hands from her face, she brought them between us and squeezed. “It isn’t your job to fix this. I was the one that left the jerk I’d agreed to have dinner with mid-meal and drove off in a rush. I was the one that didn’t notice the car not stopping as his light turned red. I was the one that put herself in this position time and time again.”

“Fuck are you talking about, Anahi?” Every muscle within me tensed as I waited for her to explain herself.

“That I should’ve listened to you when it came to the men I dated.”

Staring into her sad green eyes, my heart clenched. Her pain was mine. “Shit happens, and it was not your fault.”

“Had I been paying attention and not thinking about the ‘what ifs I…” Anahi’s face bloomed with a sudden rush of embarrassment.

“Tell me.” She shook her head. “Please.”

“You want to know? Because trust me, I remember everything about that night.” Letting out a bitter chuckle, she stepped back and released my hands. I missed her warmth immediately. “Fuck!” Ani yelled out while turning around. Placing her hands on the top of her dresser, she hung her head. A sob was caught in her throat, and I rushed forward to wrap her in my arms.

The pain medication she’d been on tended to make her emotions fluctuate a bit.

“Talk to me, babe.” With my arms secured around her waist, I pulled her in closer. Ignored what the feel of her warm skin against my own created. “Let me in.”

“I’m sorry.” Wiping at her eyes, Anahi took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Didn’t mean to pull the crazy chick card on you.” This was said with a laugh, but there was real hurt behind the action. “There’s too much going on upstairs, and I don’t know how to handle it. Between nightmares and anger, it’s a constant roller coaster.”

“Start from the beginning,” I hummed against the top of her head. “You’ve never wanted to give me details about that night. Always vague and avoiding—something about what happened is hurting you. Let me in, dollface.”

“Why do you always call me pet names?” Diversion tactic if I ever heard one; that, and she needed her ego stroked. Not that I minded in the least. For some unknown reason, Ani felt as if the small scar over her sculpted brow was this heinous thing that offended the world.

“Because I can.”

A huff, and then a smack to my arm. “That’s not an answer.”

“And neither is yours. Tell me what’s eating you up inside, Ani.”

“Every time I close my eyes, I see those high-beam lights coming at me followed close by the sound of screeching tires.” A shiver so hard ran through her that it rocked me to my core. All I could do was hold her tighter, with my presence show her that I was here for her. “Next came the sound of metal bending—caving in on itself—as a searing pain shot up the side of my body. It burned. The intense jolt caused me to almost black out, but even as everything intensified around me, I had only one thought in my head.”

“Say it,” I whispered low into the crown on her head.

Running her fingers over my hand, she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, Bryson, but it’s those what ifs that eat me alive. I’ve lost time I don’t know if I could ever get back.”

“You want to know what tortures me about that night?” Turning her around so my blue eyes could meet her green ones, I placed my hands at her hips and squeezed them lightly before holding her in place. No more hiding. Anahi wasn’t running away from the damn truth that was currently smacking us in the face.

Bringing a shaking hand up, she cupped my jaw. “What?”

“The fact that I almost lost you when I’d just realized that I’ve always owned you.”

Author Bio

Elena M. Reyes was born and raised in Miami Florida. She is the epitome of a Floridian and if she could live in her beloved flip-flops, she would.

As a small child, she was always intrigued with all forms of art—whether it was dancing to island rhythms, or painting with any medium she could get her hands on. Her first taste of writing came to her during her fifth grade year when her class was prompted to participate in the D. A. R. E. Program and write an essay on what they’d learned.

Her passion for reading over the years has amassed her with hours of pleasure. It wasn’t until she stumbled upon fanfiction that her thirst to write overtook her world. She now resides in Central Florida with her husband and son, spending all her down time letting her creativity flow and letting her characters grow.